


She or He

by tyndaridai



Category: Korean Drama, 상속자들 | The Heirs
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyndaridai/pseuds/tyndaridai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had taken Rachel one long week to overcome the small voice that told her she had no business being a mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She or He

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a small one-shot for a prompt requesting a pregnancy reveal. I don't think it's what they had in mind, in fact, it's not really what I had in mind. I'm really worried about how they come out in this, especially Young Do, so I'm sorry for any confusion. It is, once again, unbeta'd so there are definitely mistakes that I will go back and fix.
> 
> I am absolutely continuing Disturbances and Distractions, so no worries there.
> 
> Please read and review, and follow me at my tumblr tyndaridaes. I can answer any questions there!

 

 

She feels him right behind her before he even speaks. “You're _terrible_ at hide and go seek."

 

"Oh?" She fingers the stem of her water glass and arches a brow. "Who said I was the one hiding? Why waste my precious time when the prey comes right to me."

 

He snorts a laugh and stops just behind her. She smells the burning tobacco as he takes a long drag of a cigarette, the night breeze clearing most of the smoke away.

 

"And what, I'm the prey? I'm hurt."

 

"Liar. You're flattered-- _Young Do_ ," she wrinkles her nose when he presses closer and the cigarette smoke curls around her face.

 

He sighs but tosses the cigarette away with a flick of his wrist. "You caught me," he drawls tonelessly and his fingers find her hips. "You make me shameless."

 

"Young Do," she protests halfheartedly as he creases the silk at her waist with wandering fingers. "Utterly pathetic," he says, inordinately pleased with himself if she can read the smirk that he presses to the skin behind her ear.

  
  
She rolls her eyes but leans back into his chest as he wraps his arms around her. He found her, as he always did. She very rarely left social events, but lately she had much on her mind. The first time she wandered off a week ago, unable to stomach another second of Sung Hye-Mi's prattle, he'd found her on the hotel terrasse in 10 minutes.

 

"I get bored," he'd said when he'd found her, mercifully silent about her reasons for leaving. "My fault, for marrying the only worthwhile person in Korea. Or is that your fault?"

 

This time it had only taken him 5.

 

“Aren’t you cold? Aish,” he grumbles as if mortally offended by the wind, and she knows he wishes he hadn't thrown his cigarette away. “It’s freezing.”

 

“Then you should have brought my coat if you were that worried,” she retorts and tilts her head back into his shoulder, ignoring his complaints.  Rachel plays with his fingers for a moment, admiring the long lines of muscle and sinew, as artfully made up as that face of his.  

 

"What was it this time?" he murmurs into her neck, voice so deliciously low that Rachel has to close her eyes. "You looked ill at dinner. Although," he locks their fingers and comments dryly, "I can't blame you. Tan's face makes me nauseous too."

 

Rachel doesn't snort, but her lips twist at the comment. Her husband is _so_ charitable.

 

"Nothing," she says, and hears the skepticism in his answering hum. She wants to curse because in spite of his teasing words, this is the third time he's caught her abandoning a party in a week and she knows he's worried.

 

_Just tell him._

  
She, who is never uncertain, dithers for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to say.

 

_Aish._

 

In the end, Rachel opts for no words at all. Linking her fingers with his, she slowly slides them down, guiding them along the soft planes of her body until she reaches her abdomen. Meaningfully, tentatively, Rachel rests their hands there, cupping her still flat belly. She holds her breath and waits for her husband to follow what has always been her lead.

  
  
It takes him only a moment. She feels him stiffen, arms like iron bands around her as he inhales sharply against her ear. She waits with her own breath trapped in her lungs, but he says nothing. He doesn't even move.

 

Wary, Rachel sets her glass down on the wooden side table before she turns in his arms. Young Do's eyebrows are drawn so far down, Rachel’s mouth actually drops. He looks so serious. She thought he'd be overjoyed.

  
“What are you telling me?”

  
“I-” she starts, stops, swallows. Did he not-- “I’m pregnant.”

  
There is a horribly long pause, seconds that stretch into minutes for Rachel who suddenly feels the urge to curl into herself. It had taken one long week for her to come to terms with what the doctor had told her. An heir, children, were something a woman of her upbringing expected with as much certainty as a platinum credit card. Still, conception had not come easily for Rachel and Young Do. Months had turned into years and Rachel pretended for those who nosily asked, that it was a choice they'd made.

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, empires did not run themselves. Young Do never said a word about it either, seemingly satisfied with their life together. But she wondered, when Won's kids ran circles around them at garden parties, smudged fingers inches away from Rachel's white Chanel, if Young Do thought about it. She did.

 

There were expectations, gender norms that Rachel had internalized but questioned as a child. The women of her social circle reminded her of them every time they commented on a new birth ("Her second child, Bo Na. _Another_ boy.") or asked Rachel about her marriage.

 

Some concessions were made for Rachel of course, she who had followed her Mother's example in managing her own corporation. Rachel was respected for her achievements and authority, but her choices also brought her widespread disapproval. No one understood why Young Do let his wife run a company separate from his own. They didn't understand that Young Do didn't _let_ her do anything. They were equals, partners. But to the sycophants it just wasn't done, not when Rachel had yet to "provide" an heir.

  
There was a small part of Rachel that was relieved about it. Neither she nor Young Do had had the best tutors in parenting 101, though Rachel’s relationship with her mother had improved immensely once Esther had learned to accept Rachel’s choices (and Young Do). Maybe it was a good thing. Rachel could continue her life as she'd always known it, and no innocent life would be ruined by her lack of maternal instinct and skill. She couldn't fail if the opportunity never arose, could she?

 

And yet, there were fantasies of a little girl with Young Do's wide grin and Rachel's thick hair; a boy, clumsy as he tried to navigate his long limbs, fierce temperament and flashing eyes just like her own.

  
After the doctor had given Rachel the news, it had taken her one long week to overcome the small voice that told her she had no business being a mother. And now, with his silence and hard stare, Young Do was undoing all of that hard work.

  
She clenches her fist and swallows. "Say it,” she hisses, feeling defensive. “Just say--”

  
Young Do stops her words with a firm press of his lips to hers, arms circling her waist and crushing her to him. She is breathless when he pulls back from her, a pained look on his face.

  
“Ow,” she whispers, and blinks back at him in a daze.

  
“I’m sorry,” he huffs, licking his lips as he cradles her face in his hands, thumbs soothing the bruised flesh of her lips with a gentle caress. “Did I hurt you? Are-” he heaves another devastated breath and takes her mouth again, swallowing her surprised groan with insistent lips. Smaller kisses follow, little pecks that freeze the air in her lungs as much as they confuse her.

 

When he pulls back he presses his forehead to hers and sags against her. It causes both of them to stumble back into the glass of the window, but Rachel braces a hand beside her to catch them. It’s only then, as he inhales a shaky breath, that she realizes he is trembling slightly.

  
She has never seen him like this.

  
“Young Do,” he won’t look at her, his eyes remain closed and almost hidden by the hair at the crown of her head. “What are you _doing_?” Fright makes her a bit waspish, and she pushes against his chest where her other hand is trapped. He stops her attempts, winding his fingers around her wrist and bringing it down to her side.

  
“I’ll be better,” he says, but had his face not been so close to her own, she probably wouldn’t have heard it at all. “Rachel,” he swallows thickly and tightens his grip on her wrist. “I’ll be better.”

  
At his admission, Rachel feels all her strength leave her. Oh god.

  
He is still breathing harshly against her temple when Rachel pulls her hand from his grasp and gently brings it up to press into his cheek. It angers her to think that the scars left by his Father and Mother ran this deep. Though she supposes, as Young Do finally draws back far enough to look her in the eye, that she is no better.  

  
“Together,” she says, just like she told herself a thousand times over the course of the week. She anchors him to her with her hand on his cheek and her eyes on his, swallowing her own fears down so that she can erase his own. “We’ll do this together.”

  
He does nothing for a long moment, only watches her with conflicted eyes like he's testing the truth of her words. It feels like ages before his shoulders relax slightly and he gives a slow nod.

 

She can pinpoint the exact moment that he attempts to hide all his self-doubt from her: he flashes a too sharp smile and turns away, fingers likely itching for another cigarette. While Young Do has always been the more demonstrative one in regards to his feelings, he has never shaken the instinct to cover-up and dismiss those flashes as inconsequential.

  
He’s not embarrassed, but he is not pleased with himself. Clearly, the thought that he would be deficient as a Father in some way, ran deep. She is not foolish enough to think that she has solved this problem here.

  
 _What broken people we are,_ she thinks. She watches him avoid her eyes and clears her throat.

 

“If you’re done with your theatrics, step back," she says softly and smacks him on the chest. "You weigh a thousand pounds and the glass is cold.”

 

He chokes on a surprised laugh and tilts his head back, exhaling heavily. He's still distracted, but she can't help the private smile at his put-upon expression.

  
“You’re exaggerating,” Young Do mutters, pressing his lips together as he tries to regain his composure. He moves them though, wrapping an arm around her waist as he steps back. “I’m lighter than air.”

  
“Only because you’re full of _hot_ air.”

  
"Aish,” Young Do makes a clicking sound against his teeth and stares at her in overdone annoyance. “My wife is so clever," he grumbles and pinches her cheek. " _Too_ clever.”

  
Rachel swats his hand away and glares. “Just kiss me you idiot, this is the only period of celebration I will allow for this,” she gives a mutinous toss of her hair, and clutches at his lapels. “So stop feeling so sorry for yourself, you're wasting my time."

  
His eyes narrow before he kisses her so hard that they stumble back into the window again. This time, Young Do’s hand comes around to prevent her head from smacking against the glass. “I love you, you harpy,” he bites into her bottom lip and grins when her breath catches against his teeth.

  
“That makes your spawn half-harpy, then,” she grumbles against his mouth, tilting her hips so that she can press her entire front to his. He grunts against her, hand flying to the dip of her back, and swears.

  
“She’ll be fine,” he recovers, eyes glittering as he settles his weight against her. When he slides his leg between hers, a smirk on his face and a gentle hand at the imaginary curve of her belly, she narrows her eyes. “ _My_ genes will make up for any deficiencies.”

  
“Or _he_ ,” she snaps, working her fingers at the buckle of his belt with more violence than necessary. He’s smug as he meets her glare, bracing his hands on either side of her head as she makes fast work of the fasten of his pants.

  
“Whatever,” he chuckles and nudges her nose with his own. She stops for a moment, caught by the adoration in his blinding smile, so different than minutes before.

 

"You _are_ happy about this...Young Do?" She feels exposed and unsure. He'd gotten over his initial shock, but did he actually want this? He'd given her no certainty from his words, and she'd jumped right to kissing to soothe his concerns. "I need to hear you say it."

 

He leans down close, the look he gives her apologetic and so warm that she feels her throat burn when she tries to swallow.

 

"I'm happy," he says against her cheek, and she is unable to look away from his dark gaze. "You make me so _fucking_ happy Rachel. Do you understand?"

 

She nods, unable to do anything but tighten her grip on the lip of his pants.

 

"Are _you_ happy?" he asks seriously, cradling her face in his large hands.

 

"Shut up," she responds hoarsely, glaring ineffectively when he grins at the rasp in her voice. "You know you do, just--"she butts her head against his forehead and curses the hot flush of her ears. "I hate you," she gives up, sighing when he presses his laughter against her forehead, her cheek, and her jaw.

 

She's smiling too, embarrassed, when he tilts her head back and finally captures her mouth with his own.  
  


* * *

 

 

That night, Young Do falls asleep curled around his wife's back, his nose pressed into her hair and his arm thrown over her stomach protectively. She traces the strong muscles of his hand at her abdomen, linking their fingers together as she listens to the steady beat of his heart against her back.

  
 _Together,_ she had said. There were clear issues that needed to be addressed, exorcised, and eradicated, but they would do it together.

 

 _Poor thing_ , she thinks ( _half-harpy_ , she even allows, privately). _At least you'll have fantastic genes._

  
  
She smirks in the darkness as Young Do sighs against her neck and brings the two of them closer to his chest.

  
  
  



End file.
